Sick
by msdowartyheps
Summary: A simple take on someone's last hours on this Earth. Warning: Character death. One-shot. I'm not sure about the rating but I guess better safe than sorry,


Soooo I'm back with a new one-shot. I saw an "emotional dialogue prompt" on Tumblr and this little thing wouldn't leave my mind. I tried my best not to make it too angsty, though.

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"_You can let go now, love."_

Erik struggled to open his eyes; he felt like his lids weighted at least twice as much as they usually did.

However, he was rewarded with two beautiful, warm chocolate-brown orbs right in front of his face, the sweetest, most loving gaze he had ever known, along with a huge smile. Her large curls were loose and draped over her shoulders, chest and back, the way he liked them best.

"Erik, dear, it's so good to see you awake! Are you hungry? I can fetch a bowl of soup if you like."

"Soup... Yes, please. Yes, that would be good, thank you."

His hoarse voice surprised him, but he managed to disguise it. His angel didn't seem to notice, happy as she was to see him eat.

Erik took a deep breath and shuddered. His whole body ached and he felt very weak. Glancing around, the white walls with windows made clear he was in their home - not his underground lair, though they did spend a lot of time there still, but their married home, the place they had found as a couple thinking of their children.

Children he now knew would never come.

There was no reason to lie or deny it: his time was coming fast.

Christine came back with a bowl of hot, delicious chicken soup and, even though he felt his arms weak, Erik refused to let her feed him. He still had some pride left.

"The weather outside is rather warm and sunny", Christine added as Erik finished eating. "Would you like some fresh air?"

"I would love that, my love, thank you. The soup was delicious."

Christine smiled, put the bowl on top of the bedside table and proceeded to open the three large windows. Erik could hear the birds chirping outside and feel the warm breeze on his fully uncovered face. The sensation was unparalleled. The smell of the flowers made him happy.

"Come, now", he motioned to Christine. "Come lay next to me a bit."

And so she did, snuggling him on his right side.

After a few minutes of quietly stroking her hair, Erik gathered the strength and courage to talk. He needed, afterall, to give her some final advice.

"My Christine... I believe we both know my time in this life is almost over."

Christine shook her head.

"Don't say that."

Erik looked at her and saw her eyes filled with tears.

"Darling, I'm sorry it makes you upset but we have to talk about this. The last thing I want is to leave you destitute."

"You are not leaving me."

"Christine...", he sighed, and then decided on a different approach. "My love, you and I know I'm very sick. I'm old, too, Christine, much older than you. If anything happens..."

"It won't", she interrupted him.

"Still", he insisted. "It will make me feel better knowing that, if anything happens, you will not be lost." He took her silence as a sing to continue. "In our home beneath the opera house, there's a small box made of black wood in the music room. I keep it behind the violin case. You will find a good amount of money there, as well as some papers from a lawyer - a good man who asks few questions. He is aware he should expect your visit and will know what to do."

Christine nodded.

"I want you to keep singing. Keep practicing. I will still be able to hear you wherever I am. That way, we will always be together."

"I don't think I could... If you were gone", Christine whispered. "My voice would die with you."

Erik's own voice escaped him. It seemed fair, in a way; he was the one to awaken her voice again after her father had passed, and she saw no reason to keep it alive once he was gone. It was also proof of her devotion to him, not that he needed one. Still, he felt the need to encourage her.

"Don't say that. Your voice is a gift. While it may be difficult at first, with time you will find it again and all Paris will be at your feet."

Christine didn't argue. She knew it was useless.

"If... Your boy finds out you're a widow and comes after you again...", Christine shook her head, trying to stop Erik's next words, "I want you to say yes."

It felt like a knife on his chest, but he had to think of what was best for Christine.

"How can you say that? How dare you even think such an absurdity?"

"Christine, please... You don't have to be alone for the rest of your life."

"I will never love him as much as I love you!"

"I know, and it makes me very happy. But you deserve someone who loves you, my dear, and who will care for you after I'm gone. I was a hermit before we met, but it doesn't mean I wish you the same fate."

They spent the rest of their morning in that lazy bliss, making small talk and simply enjoying each other's company.

However, as the hours passed, Erik's health declined. He was coughing nonstop and a fever rose - no matter what Christine did, his temperature would not lower.

By the side of the bed, Christine could not hold back her tears and wept silently. Her beloved husband barely had the strength to keep his eyes open. She stroked his hair in a feeble attempt to comfort him. Erik took a deep breath, opened his eyes and held her hand.

"My Christine... You have given me the best days a man could ask for. I'm sorry that you have to go through this... But thank you. Thank you for loving me. For accepting me. For making me the happiest man in this world."

Christine now sobbed openly. Erik let go of her hand and stroked her cheek.

"My Angel... What will I do without you?"

"You will be happy." He took her hand again, kissed it and held it to his chest. "See the world. Live the life you deserve, full of sunny days, walks in the park and everything your husband could not give you."

Christine couldn't find it in herself to say goodbye, so she simply caressed his face.

"You can let go now, love", his angelic voice uttered.

The amber eyes Christine loved so much finally closed.


End file.
